Drunken Rambles, Forgotten Kisses
by Katerina Riley
Summary: In which Lance drunkenly confesses to Keith that he's bi and Keith's poor gay heart can't take much more of this. PREQUEL TO FAIRYTALE ENDINGS. Klance. Drunk Lance. Boys kissing.


**Drunken Rambles, Forgotten Kisses**

"Keith."

No answer.

"Keith!"

He knocks louder.

"_KEITH_!"

"Damn, _what_?" He blinks. "Lance? What are you…? Are you drunk?"

"No," Lance says unconvincingly, leaning heavily on the doorframe. "Got any weed?"

"_Dude_!" he hissed, grabbing Lance's shirt and yanking him inside, frantically slamming the door shut. "Speak louder, why don't you. I don't think the RAs on the other side of campus hear you yet."

Lance blinked, standing far closer to Keith than he'd ever had. The smell of alcohol much more prominent on his breath from this distance. His lips glistened as he ran his tongue over them. "So… Do you?"

Keith stepped away and folded his arms, as if that would be enough of a barrier between him and Lance. "Just yesterday you were saying anyone who smokes weed is an unfeeling idiot. Which I know was directed at me by the way. So, fuck you for that. Especially since I know what your GPA is."

He expected some snappy retort back, something with just as much bite as his comment. Somehow, insulting each other with words just a touch too hurtful had become their thing. He knew when it started—second week of sophomore year—but he wasn't sure how or even why. Lance insisted he started it, which normally Keith could agree with, but he couldn't think of what he did to make Lance imagine themselves as "rivals" or whatever it was. Still, he enjoyed their banter. There were a few people that could keep up with Keith's scalding tongue. Lance happened to be one of them.

Just not tonight.

Instead of a sharp response, Lance hunched over, mumbling something unintelligible.

With a frown, Keith asked, "What?"

Lance licked his lips again, still refusing to meet Keith's eyes. "I _said_…maybe I don't…want…to feel…anything…"

Despite his slurred speech, Keith's instincts were telling him this was serious and not just drunk Lance talking about a headache or something else equally mundane. Slowly, he put his hand on Lance's shoulder. "Why? Lance, are you okay? Did something happen?"

"Nothing. The usual." He pulled away of Keith's touch and took out a half-empty bottle of vodka from his coat pocket. Before Keith could react, Lance had taken two giant gulps.

"Fuck, stop!" Keith pulled the bottle away leaving Lance looking at his empty hand, blinking owlishly. "_Vodka_, Lance? Fucking hell, why can't you drink piss poor beer like the other straight dude-bros."

"Straight," he muttered, scowling.

"…Lance?"

He looked up. "Got any weed?"

Keith groaned. "What the fuck, dude? Tell me what's wrong."

"There's no weed in my hand."

"That's not exactly how it…" he sighed. "Do you want me to call Hunk?"

Lance crossed his arms. "Hunk doesn't have any weed."

"No, he doesn't. But he might actually get you to talk. Since you actually like him and shit."

He hadn't meant to say that last part (he only half-believed it himself), but Lance immediately seemed to sober up, his arms dropping loosely by his side and his face softening, almost pleading.

"I like you, Keith."

His damn heart skipped a beat at the words, and Keith imagined him throwing it into a wall. _Not like that, dummy_.

"Then please tell me what's wrong."

Licking his lips, Lance quietly asked, "And then I can have some weed?"

"Sure," he said, with no intention of following through. "You tell me what's wrong and I'll dig into my secret stash."

With a nod, Lance kicked off his shoed and crawled onto Keith's the bed. He looked so small.

"I just…I just talked to my family. That's all."

Keith frowned, remembering all the stories Lance would tell his friends about his family. When his sister had her baby, he literally showed every person who walked by him his _sweet, adorable, absolutely perfect little nephew, look at his eyes! _

"…But you love your family."

Lance looked absolutely dejected. "I do."

Hesitantly, Keith sat at the edge of the bed, unsure how much space he should be giving Lance at the moment. These types of conversations weren't his forte. "I don't understand."

"How do you do it?" he asked suddenly, catching Keith off-guard with the subject change..

"Do…what?"

He gestured vaguely at Keith's person.

"That's not helpful, Lance."

He flared a little more, his mouth trying to form words that his brain hadn't supplied yet. Finally, he blurted out, "How are you so _open_?"

"Open?" Keith wanted to laugh. If only Shiro were here. "I'm more of a closed book shackled in a trunk and thrown into the ocean."

He mumbled something again. Keith was only able to hear one word.

"Out? You mean…gay?" Keith frowned as Lance nodded his head. "Lance, are you _seriously_ asking me how I'm gay?"

He looked at him miserably. "You don't hide it. Aren't you scared?"

Okay, that wasn't what he expected at all. Granted, he never expected Lance to ask him about any part of his sexuality; it was something he seemed to steer clear of. Not even one teasing gay joke, even despite the amount of times he commented on Keith's mullet.

"I mean…at first I was a bit scared, yeah. I came out when I was in middle school. Kids suck." He paused, looking for he-wasn't-exactly-sure-what on Lance's face. "Why are you asking?"

Lance looked away and said nothing for a long while. Finally, he said, "My parents love me."

Drunk Lance sure was a rollercoaster of topics. Keith tried not to roll his eyes. "That's great…"

"But," he continued. "They're super religious."

"Catholic, right?"

"Yeah… And they know I like girls…"

"Uh-huh…" _Where the hell is this going?_

"But if they knew I also liked boys, they'd flip their shit."

"Righ—_What_?"

"But what's the point in even telling them?" Lance wailed, oblivious to Keith's wide eyes and dropped jaw. "They'll want me to marry a girl anyway because I _do_ like girls, but it's just that sometimes I'll look at a boy and I'm like _damn_, I want him, like, I _want _him, like at first I just thought being railed by a girl was what I wanted and, like, I'm not opposed to the idea, but nope, it's not just that, because some dudes I'm like, damn I wonder what he'd look like riding me, but then other dudes I'm like, I want to ride_ him_, but I can't do anything about this because my parents just wouldn't understand, like, they're not homophobic, which is nice cause Veronica is as gay as they gay, but because I like both, they expect me to just marry a girl cuz I like them, but you—you, Keith," he cupped Keith's face, drunkenly unaware of the surprise and _lust _behind the purple eyes. "You're so open and so strong and it makes me feel like I could've been _you_ and I hate that I'm so weak and I think that why I've been such a dick to you and so sorry—"

Keith didn't realize what he was doing until Lance's hands were winding in his hair and his mouth dropped open and a whine tore through the back of his throat and…and…holy shit he kissed Lance! He was currently kissing Lance! And Lance was kissing. him. back.

It was only when Lance started trying to climb in his lap that he realized he was kissing a very drunk Lance and he was very sober and this was very not-good.

"H-How are you feeling?" he asked breathlessly, pulling away from Lance's soft, plump, intoxicating lips.

"Better," Lance answered, his eyes completely blown wide. "Don't stop."

"Y-You're very drunk, Lance. I shouldn't have—"

Lance pushed him down into the bed and leaned over him. "Shut up, Keith, and kiss me."

And Keith couldn't refuse an order like that. Not from Lance. They kissed for what felt like eons, their hands roaming over each other's bodies, but it couldn't have been more than twenty minutes before the alcohol finally won over Lance and he passed out.

Keith couldn't fall asleep for hours afterward. Lance's warm body was pressed against his and his breath puffed softly against his and his legs were—

"Oh, fuck," he whispered, his hand carding through Lance's soft hair. "I'm so _screwed_."

He wondered what the morning would be like. Would Lance remember this? Would he deny it? Would something come out of it? He tried very hard to not let his hopes rise, but his lips still tingled from Lance's touch and Lance's body was pressed against his and his heart whispered, **maybe maybe maybe maybe **with each beat.

_Maybe… Maybe the morning will be good. _

Morning came too soon and not soon enough. Keith's alarm jolted him awake and, it might've been just him, but it sounded louder than usual.

"Ugh, I feel like shit," Lance groaned, curling in on himself. "What happened?"

Keith's heart stilled. He should've expected that. "Nothing, you idiot," he said as nonchalantly as possible. "Your drunk ass came over here asking for weed—loudly, I might add—and then passed out a few minutes later."

"Wait." Lance rubbed his eyes, frowning. "What? What do you…? That's it?"

"What, did you dream Allura was here and you made out with her or something?"

Lance frowned. "No…"

Keith shook his head. "Whatever. I have to get to class. Feel free to stay as long as you need. See you later."

"Later…"

Keith shut the door and cursed his heart. Of course, Lance didn't remember; the universe had never been that kind to him before, why'd it suddenly start now?

Short answer: It wouldn't.

When he saw his phone light up hours later, he squared his shoulders and took a deep breath.

"Hey, what's—"

"Cut the bullshit," Lance interrupted, but his voice seemed shaky. "Keith, I…I know what I told you. Last night."

Keith definitely did not drop his pencil onto the table. Nope, he did not.

"And, I think I know why you didn't tell me this morning, um, when I asked what happened. But I don't want to hide that part of me. From you." He coughed. "I mean. If I can't tell you, then I really can't tell anyone, right?"

"…Right," Keith said, barely able to hear anything apart from his own racing heartbeat.

"But, um, if you could just…not tell anyone else? Yet." Lance audibly gulped. "I'm just…not ready to share that part of me…with the world. Yet."

"I understand." And he did understand that. Coming out was something someone had to do on their own times, in their own terms.

"Thanks…" Lance didn't hang up yet. "So, uh, on an unrelated note… Can you help me with the calculus homework? I didn't make it to class."

His lips twitched into a smile, even though he didn't really feel like smiling. "I noticed. Yeah, I'm in the library. Usual place."

"Awesome." But Lance still didn't hang up. "Keith, are you sure that, uh, that nothing else—"

"To be honest I was a bit drunk too," he said quickly. Immediately, he wanted to slam his head into the wall. _Why the fuck did I just say that?_

"Uh…really? You didn't seem very drunk."

His mouth opened before his min could think. "Well, that's because _you _were very drunk. Anyone would've seemed sober compared to you."

"Oh, up yours, mullet." And there was that Lance-bite. "I'll be at the library in ten."

"Okay, see you soon."

He hung up and stared at his assignment, the words blurring on the page until it disappeared completely. Somehow, he'd gotten his heart broken twice in one day, and he was sure he could hear the universe laughing at him.


End file.
